Authors: Fiona Lowe
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “I do...I...um...I mean a vacation job.”
Nothing about Amy was clear-cut and he guessed he should have known from her general uptightness that she was a workaholic. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t the word
vacation
mean taking a break from work? Not taking on pro bono.”
“I don’t mean as a lawyer. I’ve been asked to make a wedding gown.”
His intake of breath caught at the back of his throat and he started coughing.
“Are you okay?” She thumped him on the back with bruising force, which ricocheted across to his shoulder. “Did you swallow a bug?”
He gasped at the pain but it stopped the coughing and as it faded, he managed to steady his breathing. “No. I’m fine.”
She didn’t look convinced. “You’ve gone white just like the time you cut yourself.”
“That’s because your excellent first aid hurt like buggery,” he said, hating how observant she was. There was no way was he admitting that the words
wedding gown
were enough to make him choke. “You should come with a general warning that says, ‘beware all men: avoid at all costs,’” he joked, keeping the conversation well away from weddings.
She stiffened and all the joy drained from her face, quickly replaced by a look that actually made him ache.
“Hey.” He reached out his left hand, skimming his palm along her upper arm and wanting to banish the desolation that lingered in her eyes. “I was just teasing, Amy.”
Her brows rose, disappearing under auburn curls. “Many a true word is spoken in jest.”
“Don’t quote Chaucer at me,” he said, tucking a recalcitrant curl behind her ear. “Of course men don’t need to avoid you. Hell, you were supposed to slap a hand on your hip, slice me with one of those quelling looks you specialize in and say, ‘if you can’t hack getting physical, don’t waste my time.’”
A gorgeous blush bloomed on her face and her right hand flew to her mouth. She looked delightfully innocent, slightly shocked and sexy. Incredibly sexy.
“As if I could say that,” she said, her tone a combination of critical assessment mixed in with naughty wonder.
His fingers didn’t seem to want to leave her and he toyed with the curls that brushed her nape. “I dare you,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened to black pools and then, ever so slowly, she tilted her chin and fixed her gaze on his. “If...if you...” She swallowed.
Mesmerized, he followed the movement down her alabaster throat.
Her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips and then the words came out in a rush. “If you can’t hack getting physical, don’t waste my time.”
Like the strike of lightning on sun-parched grass, her husky words lit through him, igniting need. Primal need he’d suppressed for months. It tore through him, torching all reason and he leaned into her. His lips brushed against hers and he groaned at the decadent softness that greeted him again like a long-lost friend. Her tropical mango scent swirled around him, binding him to her like silk ties and enticing him to stay. Then he tasted chocolate. Not the heady taste of exotic dark chocolate, which would have matched her scent, but the surprisingly sweet, ingenue flavor of milk chocolate.
Sweet Jesus, he wanted to taste more.
She stilled, rigid under his touch and for a brief moment he almost pulled back but then the tip of her tongue caressed his top lip. It was the barest stroke, a minimalist touch but it was all the encouragement he needed. She wanted this kiss as much as he did.
He captured her mouth with his, inhaling her taste, her heat and every contradictory thing about her.
Jonathon’s betrayal started with a kiss
, Amy’s mind screamed at her, but she already knew Ben was nothing like that snake in the grass. Just moments ago he’d been so kind to her and she let her body silence her concerns.
She opened her mouth under Ben’s delicious onslaught, welcoming him in. God, he tasted amazing. As his fingers splayed across her scalp, holding her head firmly so he had easy access to her mouth, she wanted to say, “it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”
Are you insane?
Talking would break this incredible kiss.
She gloried in the heat rushing through her as his tongue gently explored her mouth. His caressing touch showered her in addictive tingles that shimmered in wondrous streaks starting at the tips of her hair and finishing in her toes. Each one built on the last until she was quivering with the intensity and still she craved more. She couldn’t get enough of his touch and his divine kisses.
Her knees threatened to buckle and she moved into him, gripping his good shoulder for support. The solidness of his chest pressed against her and she immediately felt his injured arm between them and his hand pressing against her breast. Her nipples peaked with a sizzling tingle and she groaned, sagging against him and wishing the material could just vanish so she could feel his skin against hers. Feel his fingers working the magic she instinctively knew they could.
His mouth was playing hers like a bow against strings and she loved it. She could stay here for hours, passively receiving his touch but she wanted to explore his mouth, his body. Him. Using her tongue, she deepened the kiss.
His shudder thudded through her and then cool air streaked between them, shocking her. She opened her eyes to see him pulling away.
His chest heaved as fast as hers and with a grimace, he ran his good hand through his hair. “My shoulder’s not quite up to this.”
But he wasn’t gripping his upper arm like he usually did when it caused him pain. And he wasn’t looking at her.
Sex with you was a huge disappointment.
Jonathon’s voice instantly taunted her. God, maybe it wasn’t just sex she sucked at. Now it seemed she had the evidence in front of her that she couldn’t kiss worth a damn either. The moment she’d actively entered the kiss had been the moment Ben had pulled away.
“I think I’ll head back,” he said without an invitation for her to join him.
Mutely, she nodded and watched him walk away, feeling part of her shrivel. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Melissa. “Can you bring everything I need to make this gown over to the house now?”
If she was going to survive sharing a house with Ben after this humiliating experience, she was going to keep herself busy. So busy, she wouldn’t have time to think about the fact he’d walked away.
* * *
Al was reversing out of his driveway when he saw Ella Norell lugging a cooler out to her car. He threw the truck into Park, pulled on the hand brake and jumped out. “Let me get that for you, Ella.”
“Thanks, Al.” She popped the lid of the trunk for him.
He’d known Ella Norell since he’d arrived from Minnesota forty years ago as a newly minted husband. From the day they’d moved in next door, she and his beloved Alice had become firm friends and he’d enjoyed sharing a beer with her husband, Ron.
Their kids had all grown up together and each summer they’d treated both the Norell and Swenson homes as one, moving easily between the two. He still missed the noise since they’d all moved away to college and established their lives farther south in Madison and west in Saint Paul. This past weekend, with his family visiting, had been fun but once again, the house was empty.
Ella had co-mothered his kids and had been a good friend to him when Alice had died suddenly from a heart attack five years ago. He tried to return the favor now that Ron had finally lost his long battle with cancer, but often Ella didn’t make it easy.
He swung the cooler into the trunk. “So who are you feeding this time, Ella?”
“Amy Sagar.”
The name wasn’t familiar. “Who?”
“I’m not sure you know her. She and her family used to rent our lake cottage years ago, you know, the one Ron bought as an investment but all it did was drain his time.”
“Ron was never happier than when he had a project flipping houses.”
Ella laughed. “And yet he was never as keen to fix up our house. Anyway, Amy arrived the other night looking bedraggled and worn out. Like she needed a good vacation.”
“Oh yeah? And of course you’re gonna feed her, eh?”
Ella fed everyone. Well, almost everyone. “You know, Ellie,” he said, giving her a wink, “you could always feed me.”
She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You’re quite capable of cooking for yourself, Al Swenson.”
“That I am,” he said, swallowing a sigh. The fact he’d been looking after himself for five years didn’t lessen the fact that he enjoyed being cared for every now and then. He slammed the trunk closed. “You drive safe.”
“I will.” She glanced at his tow truck and her hand stalled on the door as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, Al, what with the weekend’s wedding, I keep forgetting to tell you. If you’re heading out by the Rasmussens’ to service their vehicles, Amy’s staying there.”
He stared at her in surprise. “Since when?”
“Friday.”
“I gave my set of keys to a young Aussie on Friday night when the town was booked solid.” He laughed. “No wonder he hasn’t been at me about fixing his bike or returning my chopper.”
Ella’s eyes danced. “Is he a good-looking young man?”
“Not a patch on me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re sixty-five years old, Al, and a grandfather of five.”
“That’s right, Ella, but I’m not dead.” He leaned into the car and popped her trunk.
“What are you doing?” The pink tips on her short, spiky hair bristled as did the rest of her.
He sighed. Trying to help Ella Norell was often an impossible task. “I was just on my way out there to find out what was going on with my chopper so I’ll take out your casseroles, eh? Save you a trip.”
“Oh, no, I’m coming with. I want to meet your Aussie.”
“He’s thirty years too young for you, Ella.”
“Just drive, Al.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Eight
An hour after Ben had kissed Amy, he was clumsily polishing the intricately decorated gas tank of Al’s chopper, wishing he could just jump on the bike and ride. Ride long, far and fast, letting the wind and the road take him far away from this town, this house and Amy.
Amy.
Gorgeous
,
frustrating
,
sexy Amy.
He groaned. He’d successfully stayed immune to women for months but he’d come undone with Amy of the fathomless gray eyes, lush bee-stung lips, pillow breasts and curves that would have earned pinup status when his grandfather had been fighting in Korea. She’d felt so deliciously soft and pliant against him and he’d consumed her with his mouth like a starving man rips into food. It had felt amazing right up until the moment she’d kiss him back. Kissed him like she, too, was starving and that had been enough to freak him out.
Goddamn it
,
Lexie.
Leave me the fuck alone.
He threw the rag to the ground and picked up the spray bottle of wax, squirting it jerkily. He hated that Lexie was still in his head when he was nine months and ten thousand miles away from her. The whole point of this trip had been to get as far away as possible from her, forget her and everything he’d believed to be real about them as a couple and move on. What sort of screwed-up son of a bitch did this make him if he’d allowed thoughts of Lexie into a kiss with another woman? He wasn’t supposed to be that guy. He hated the very idea of being that guy.
The crunch of gravel thankfully broke up his thoughts and he glanced up to see Al’s truck pulling up on the circular drive. He gave a wave and waited for Al and his passenger to get out.
Al’s gaze took in the sling. “Hell, son, what did you do to yourself, eh?”
Ben gave a wry smile. “Had a bit of an accident when I arrived on Friday night.”
“On the chopper?” Al’s eyes shot straight to his precious bike just as Ben’s would have done.
The bright-eyed woman standing next to him clicked her tongue. “Dangerous machines, motorcycles.”
“Not that sort of accident,” Ben said, patting the gas tank. “She’s fine. I was just polishing her up for you. I left you a note on your workbench on Saturday, explaining things.”
“That chicken scrawl?” Al shook his head. “I had no clue what that said.”
The woman gave Ben an endearing smile. “You poor boy. You probably injured your writing hand.”
It had been a long time since Ben had been called a boy, but there was something about this woman that reminded him of his mother so it seemed perfectly natural. Come to think of it, Al, with his collection of junk and love of engines, shared a lot in common with his father. He smiled, thinking about his parents. How odd to cross the world and meet parental doppelgängers. “I’m fast learning how to use my left hand, though, Mrs. Swenson.”
She quickly shook her head. “I’m not Mrs. Swenson, dear. I’m Ella Norell.”
“Ella’s my neighbor,” Al said with a warm look in his eyes, “and she likes to feed people. Apparently, she gave a set of keys to a young woman on Friday who’s staying here too, eh?”
Ben looked between the two of them. “Isn’t Amy the daughter of your client?”
Ella laughed. “Oh, no, dear. She’s not a Rasmussen.”
Surprise dumped all over him and yet, it felt like the pieces of a puzzle falling into their rightful place.
It’s my house.
Yet she seemed completely ignorant of where anything was kept in the kitchen.
I
packed quickly.
Her crazy wardrobe combinations when she should have had clothes here.
Ella continued, “She arrived in town unexpectedly late on Friday and looking like she desperately needed a vacation. I didn’t know Al had given you keys,” she said apologetically. “I hope neither of you got too much of a surprise.”
The memory of Amy’s naked body sprawled out in front of him returned in stunning 3-D. He cleared his throat. “Not too much of a surprise, no.”
But did he have a surprise for Ms. This-is-my-house Amy who’d lied to him. Lying meant she was hiding something. He’d allowed Lexie to lie to him and, damn it, he was never letting another woman do that to him again.
He smiled at Ella and Al. “Please come inside. I just know Amy will be thrilled to see you.”
* * *
Amy was checking out potential sewing rooms downstairs when she heard voices. Had Melissa arrived already? She excitedly made her way to the great room only to stop short just inside.
Ben must have heard her footsteps because he turned and said, “Here she is now. Amy, you know Ella and this is Al Swenson.”
Mrs. Norell stared at her momentarily stunned as if trying to assimilate evening wear with hiking boots, and then rushed forward with arms open wide. “Amy, dear, you look like you’re getting into the vacation spirit.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Ben mumbled.
Amy, her body utterly rigid, let Ella hug her, all the while frantically trying to think how she could avoid Ben finding out that this wasn’t actually her house.
Does it really matter?
Yes!
The man wielded enough charismatic power over her when he thought he was a guest in her house. Without that caveat, he’d feel he owned equal rights. Oh, God, he might even stay longer.
A ridiculous skip of anticipation shot through her.
What is wrong with you?
she admonished her wayward body.
One kiss was enough for him to make it clear he doesn’t want us.
Besides
,
we need to be here on our own to re-strategize.
“I brought you some casseroles which Ben has kindly put in the freezer,” Ella said, “and I’m sorry about the confusion on Friday but it sounds like the two of you are getting along famously.”
“I really fell on my feet, Ella,” Ben said.
Amy’s ears heard mocking sarcasm in his delectable melodic voice, but it was lost on Ella who, going by the expression on her face, was utterly captivated by his sexy accent and good looks.
“Not only is Amy an excellent caregiver,” Ben continued, his lovely green eyes suddenly sharp and piercing, “she’s also an excellent cook. Why don’t you and Al stay for tea...I mean supper? You’ll be amazed by her ratatouille.”
An odd squeak involuntarily left her mouth as her stomach plummeted to her toes. He knew she had no clue how to make ratatouille, which meant he already knew that this wasn’t her house.
Standing by the fireplace, all model good looks and easygoing charm, he raised one sardonic, honey-brown brow in her direction. The look seared her with its potency but it wasn’t sexual. If anything, it resembled pain.
That makes no sense.
She discarded the thought. He was just pissed at her so he planned to embarrass the hell out of her. She pursed her lips. Two could play at this game.
Earlier this afternoon when he’d teased her, he’d thought she should have teased him back so who was she to disappoint him now. “Supper’s a great idea, Ben,” she said, smiling sweetly, while meeting his mocking expression head-on. She took great delight in the slight frown that scored his high, smooth forehead.
That’s right
,
buddy.
Be afraid
,
be very afraid.
She addressed Ella and Al. “We’d love for you both to stay seeing as you so kindly arranged for us to spend time in this lovely house, but...” She shrugged her shoulders in her best pleading way—a skill she’d learned in mediation. “It’s just I’m going to need a little bit of help.”
“What do you need me to do, dear?” Ella immediately offered.
“Ben needs help getting undressed and showering and as I’m cooking supper...”
“Oh, no problem.” Ella clapped her hands together, smiling at Ben. “I was a nurse so there’s nothing I don’t know about showering and shaving a man.”
Al grunted, his face suddenly scowling.
Ben paled. “I really don’t want to impose and—”
“Nonsense,” Ella said, walking toward him. “We’ll have you all freshened up in no time.”
“Give in now, son,” Al said with a weary resignation. “Once Ella gets an idea into her head, there’s no talking her out of it.”
Ben shot Amy a deadly look that said,
I
will so get you back for this
, but instead of making her anxious, she felt the now-familiar zip of sexy anticipation. That worried her far more. She didn’t want to feel this way about him when he was so far out of her league. When she sucked so badly at anything to do with men.
But as Ella marched Ben up the stairs, talking nonstop about the importance of male hygiene, Amy burst into laughter.
“Private joke?” Al said to her with a look that saw far too much.
“Just a tiny bit of payback. I don’t suppose you know how to make ratatouille?”
“I’m more a meat-and-potatoes guy, but isn’t that just a whole heap of vegetables cooked up in a pan?”
“Is it? Well in that case I can probably handle it.”
He glanced up the stairs as if he wanted to follow, but Ben and Ella had already disappeared from view. “Tell you what. I’m happy to be your kitchen hand for the price of a beer, eh?”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Deal.”
* * *
Amy turned on the dishwasher and then poured herself a glass of Merlot before glancing around the kitchen. It was clean, tidy and ordered, which was exactly the way she liked things. For the first time since Friday, she had a sense of control.
This isn’t control.
This is just the wine.
Plus
,
you didn’t clean up.
Ella had done most of the after-dinner cleaning and tidying, insisting that Amy just sit and rest as she’d done all the meal preparation.
Amy had felt slightly guilty given that Al had done most of the cooking and all she’d done was follow his instructions, but as Al and Ben had conveniently gone outside to lovingly gaze at the chopper, she’d acquiesced. The evening had been unexpectedly fun despite the knowledge that Ben now knew she wasn’t who she’d led him to believe. Not that he’d said anything about it to her or the others.
He’d been entertaining for the whole evening, telling Al and Ella about drop bears, deadly snakes and sharks, and not once had he ever mentioned to them that she’d been the one to injure him. She wasn’t certain if that was because he was protecting himself from ridicule or if he was protecting her.
Why would he protect you?
Apart from Daddy
,
no man ever has.
“So, Amy.”
She started at Ben’s smooth, bass voice, which seemed deeper than usual, and she turned around slowly to face him.
He was leaning up against the doorway wearing jeans and a light wool sweater that clung to him, outlining his deliciously toned and lean torso. Someone who’d not met him before would say he was relaxed.
Amy knew better. His green eyes flickered with predatory intent—a look she’d not seen on him before—and she gave an involuntary shiver. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her but he looked coolly angry. Restrained. As if it wouldn’t take much to unleash his fury in a torrent of words.
She took a gulp of the wine. “So, Ben, did you manage to wheel the trash can to the road?”
“I did. I survived that task just like I survived Ella’s ministrations and her no-nonsense advice on the care of certain body parts I don’t usually discuss with anyone.”
She sucked in her lips, desperately trying not to laugh. “So I heard.”
“And it entertained you more than it did me.” He pushed off the doorjamb, his long legs quickly covering the distance between them and he stopped just inside what she considered her personal space.
Her heart skipped a beat. He was so close and his heat radiated into her in delicious waves.
He slowly lifted up his left arm so it skated as close to her as it could without touching and then he slid a wineglass out of the rack above her head.
She was staring straight into his armpit and her nose caught the whiff of sports deodorant and the hint of masculine sweat. Every part of her wanted to lean in, bury her face and inhale deeply.
His armpit?
Isn’t that totally gross?
But her body overruled her mind.
He stepped back and her body whimpered.
Stop it now.
He walked away from the kiss
,
remember.
This is just a power play because I buried the truth.
He flipped the glass in his hand, placing it down on the counter before picking up the wine bottle and filling the glass with the velvet maroon contents. Then he took a sip, closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them he said, “So, Amy, who are you?”
Oh
,
no.
I’m not doing this.
“I’m Amy, just like I told you.”
His brows rose in an
I
don’t believe you
action. “The night I arrived you seemed very hesitant about what you did. Are you even a lawyer?”
“Yes, I’m a lawyer,” she said briskly to silence the cawing crows that declared hourly that currently she was not.
He pulled out a chair and spun it around before sitting and leaning his good arm over the top. “So what’s with the crazy clothing?”
Don’t let him get too close.
“Like I told you already, I packed quickly.”
“Because?”
She made herself meet his suddenly penetrating gaze and swallowed hard. How could she have thought this guy was laid-back? “I don’t believe I agreed to be in the witness box, Ben.”
“You put yourself there when you lied to me,” he said in the harshest tone she’d ever heard him use.
What was going on here? She tilted her head, studying him. His lovely eyes, which could be so warm and full of fun, had developed a hard edge. “I withheld the truth.”
“That’s still lying in my book, Amy.”
His gaze made her feel small and she felt a waver in her resolve not to tell anyone she’d lost her job. “We barely know each other and I haven’t interrogated you.”
His body tensed. “I don’t like being lied to.”